Grendel wrote:Has the concept of the cursed returning dwarf been considered here? A nasty little problem - returns infuriated dwarf back to thrower..
This legend of the Cursed Returning Dwarf is of very ancient origins, and in fact can be found back among mauscripts written in Early Wasabi cuneform as
Legend Returning Dwarf Cursed, (The). This subject has been touched upon again and again in more recent history, and always remains the same in several important details:
1) The dwarf in question is named Fred Shboom.
2) He is of short stature but mighty in limb.
3) He is relatively mild-tempered for a dwarf, never attacking anyone or anything (not even those horrid plastic ivy they stick in third rate restaurants) for the first five minutes after his appearance.
4) He vanishes in midair, unseen by any observers, and is never heard from again...or at least, until some other thrillseeker finds another volume of stories devoted to him.
Beyond this, there are several striking distinctions between accounts of the legend. Consider, for example, this passage from Helmut Wintherturgeschichtgemutlichkeitelweissen's Haben und nicht Haben, already mentioned under another context on the first page of our current text-based symposium:
"The priest stood most tall within his 5" heels, shook, then fell, breaking his left kneecap. This did cause him acute discomfort, but before he might be removed to safety and treated with a holy ointment, he did utter the sacred words, "Shboom, shboom! A yetta-ta-yetta-ta-yetta-ta-yetta-ta, Shboom!" And before the sound had died away in all the valley, there amongst us was to be seen a louring dwarf in full battle dress, somber of visage. "Ye summoned me forth. I have come," he said, clasping and re-clasping his enormous hands. "What's to do? Wherein am I to be thrown?"
Note that Fred Shboom is depicted here by name. He is short and mighty. There is no mention in this account, however, of his temper or means of removal from the scene, presumably because part of the source document had once been smeared with grape jelly and eaten by a halfling. (The halfling was, in turn, eaten by a two-headed ettin with pretensions to a career in opera, named Sumi Jo. Thus is punishment meted out to the wicked.) This is, however, merely a surmise. The tooth marks might have come from an angry dog; the jelly could have appeared from an Elvish House of Female Pancake Waitresses; the halfling servant who was found choking on what appeared to be a fully masticated piece of paper around the corner from the source document's collection could have merely stuffed a live squirrel in his mouth. Truly, anything is possible.
Other references to Fred Shboom abound, however. Julius Caesar's Commentaries on Gaul specifically refer to a "strong man of short stature named Shboomius." Horrid's Noctus Nactum condemns Shboom in particular and all dwarves in general, in very unpleasant and ungrammatical terms. The Codex of Frank Disclaimers insists three times that it doesn't mention him. Suponius' Grimoire of the Little Red Pony contains an incantation to summon Shboom that requires a dozen silk scarves, three Elven maidens, and a gallon of extra virgin (what else?) olive oil. No one has had the audacity to use it yet. Of course.
But the most exciting Shboom discovery is also the most recent: a page of vellum uncovered in an ancient automat during recents digs intended to find a legendary parking meter that had not been accessed by gnomish constabulary for over three millenium! This is what was found on the page:
While thus the tenfold Fred returned
In succoring mode wenst all to death do similar spurn;
Yet errant growth to fields in fine,
And would you be my Valentine?
Conclusive proof, if any were needed, to Fred Shboom's worship in the misty dawn of history.
Next time, we will, of course, consider something or other.
